


flirting skills aren't bulletproof

by haleofStilesheart



Series: Superman!Derek Fics [2]
Category: Sterek - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Awkward Flirting, Co-workers, Derek Hale as Superman, Getting Together, Journalist Derek, Journalist Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Pining Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 21:08:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14065614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleofStilesheart/pseuds/haleofStilesheart
Summary: Derek's used to saving people, it's pretty much the whole job description for being Superman. So when he starts developing a crush on his co-worker at the Daily Planet, he knows there's only one surefire method of flirting: saving him.





	flirting skills aren't bulletproof

**Author's Note:**

  * For [typhlosionismyshit](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=typhlosionismyshit).



> I just want to apologize for the horrible title right off the bat, because it's awful but I couldn't think of anything else.
> 
> For the prompt: idk whether you'd want like, lois lane-esque stiles or not to go with superman!derek but what about an au where derek flirts with stiles by "saving" him from everyday mishaps ???

Being Superman meant that Derek was almost constantly saving people. Whether it was rescuing a family from a burning building or fighting one of his superpowered enemies, he was saving people.

At this point, it was simple habit to help people, something that had been ingrained in him since childhood. Growing up in a small town, in the midst of a tight-knit farming community, he had quickly learned the importance of helping others.

Throughout grade school, he had always been the first one to volunteer to help his teachers with everything from cleaning the chalkboard after a lesson to passing out papers to other students. It had earned him the moniker of teacher's pet, which he had heard other students whisper behind his back, not that he had cared much.

He had made a concerted effort to make friends with new kids who transferred in to school, offering to sit with them at lunch or show them around so they wouldn't get lost. He had even made it a habit to share his lunch with students who couldn't afford to buy school lunch and didn't have enough food at home to spare for a bagged lunch.

In high school, he had organized food drives and baking sales, doing everything in his power to help in whatever way he could. And when he bought his first car, a beat-up old Chevy pickup that wasn't much to look at but was  _ his, _ he had taken it upon himself to offer rides to school whenever it rained so others didn't have to get soaked while waiting for the bus.

His almost compulsive habit of helping continued throughout college where he had founded more than a few student organizations that offered support for marginalized students and acting as the designated driver for dozens of parties he never would have attended otherwise. And it had never gone away.

Which is why when Derek started developing a rather embarrassing crush on one of his co-workers at the Daily Planet, he immediately fell back on his only method of flirting: saving him.

Stiles Stilinski was the Planet's newest hire, a fact checker slash reporter who was almost worryingly unafraid in the field. He had a penchant for getting himself into trouble no matter where he was, like the time that he had wound up as a witness to bank robbery while cashing his first paycheck from the Planet.

He had also stumbled upon a local chop shop in the city when he brought his precious Jeep in for an oil change only two months into his stay in the city. He had written a scathing expose about the business that had earned him a few death threats and had made Derek go on constant alert.

But Stiles hadn't been the slightest bit worried which only made Derek worry even more. And start his own personal brand of flirting which mostly consisted of 'saving' Stiles from everyday mishaps.

It started with simple things, ones that no one in their right mind would construe as flirting. He would inform Stiles when his shoelaces were untied, saving the extraordinarily clumsy reporter from tripping over his own feet and braining himself on the edge of his desk.

Stiles had just rolled his eyes and continued on his way to Mr. White's office. Of course, Stiles had ended up tripping and nearly smacked his head against the wall as he let out a shocked, high pitched cry.

It may have been an abuse of his powers and his mother probably wouldn't have approved but less than a second later, Derek had been at Stiles' side, righting him with a hand on his elbow. Stiles had brushed off Derek's concern with another eye roll as he bent to tie his shoes, though his cheeks were decidedly more red than before.

Another time, while leaving the office for the night, he had ended up walking to the parking garage with Stiles who was too engrossed in typing something on his phone to notice the steep drop off of the curb. Before Stiles could tumble off the sidewalk and break his ankle or worse, Derek had darted to his side, setting a guiding hand on the small of Stiles' back as he warned, "Watch your step."

Stiles had thanked him with a bright grin, making an offhand comment about the game on his phone he was playing, something about a Poochyena or something of that ilk. Derek never pretended to be very pop culture savvy.

A few weeks after the curb incident, Stiles was goofing off at his desk as he proofread his latest article about the local police department's annual charity ball, rocking back in his swivel chair. While grumbling about how much his eyes hurt from the hours of editing he had been putting in, he had leaned back much too far in his chair.

Before he could fumble backwards, bringing the chair with him, Derek, who had been walking by on his way back to his own desk, caught the back of his chair. Steadying the chair, he smirked at Stiles who gaped up at him, upside down, brown eyes wide.

"Careful," Derek had teased as he set the chair upright, the momentum rocking Stiles a bit. He couldn't resist puffing out his chest when Stiles' flushed a blotchy red to match his flannel shirt.

"My hero," Stiles had quipped, flashing Derek a bright grin as he turned back to his computer, nimble fingers flying over the keys. Derek had continued on his way to his desk with an extra spring in his step.

Things went on like that for quite some time. Stiles would do something reckless and clumsy and come dangerously close to bodily harm and Derek would swoop in like a white knight and save him from embarrassment and head contusions.

The pattern continued for weeks until Erica, one of the Planet's best photographers, decided to throw an impromptu office party. Derek wasn't even sure what exactly the point of the party was but he would have to be a fool to miss out on the champagne cupcakes Erica baked for every special event.

Apparently, neither could Stiles.

Though it was technically Stiles' day off, Derek heard the hum of his Jeep's engine as he approached the office building. As Stiles drew closer, Derek could hear the familiar pattern of his heartbeat, rabbit fast from caffeine and Stiles' jog into the building.

Stiles was in his usual state of dishevelment, wearing a dark blue flannel over a heather gray t-shirt and a pair of black jeans, his hair a complete mess. He had a paper cup of coffee from his favorite café in his hand, the scent of vanilla and caramel filling the room when he entered.

"Who's getting married?" Stiles asked as he made his way over to the table of various desserts where Derek was lingering, taking a break from editing his most recent article. His eyes flitted over the array of treats, from Erica's perfectly frosted cupcakes to the delicate chocolate cream puffs Boyd had bought from a nearby bakery.

Derek laughed into his own cup of coffee as Stiles licked his chops like a hungry puppy. Handing Stiles a paper plate to let him gorge himself to his heart's content, he asked, "Why do you think someone's getting married?"

"There's free food at work," Stiles pointed out, loading up his plate with as many cupcakes and mini eclairs as he possibly could. He glanced up at Derek as he popped a cream puff into his mouth, chewing with his mouth open in an oddly endearing way as he explained, "And not the shitty donuts that creep Daehler usually brings in. Must be a special occasion."

"Good point," Derek agreed, reaching over to grab an eclair from Stiles' plate. It earned him an affronted cry from Stiles who reached over to swat Derek on the arm.

"But no one's getting married," Derek informed him, taking a bite of his stolen eclair. Stiles shrugged, still loading up his plate with as much food as he could carry. "Erica just wanted to throw a party."

"Sounds like her," Stiles commented, raising his cup of coffee to his lips to take a sip. And because Stiles was quite literally the clumsiest person that Derek had ever met, the simple act of drinking coffee turned into a fiasco when he tipped the cup back too much and nearly spilled it all over himself.

Luckily, Derek was there to reach out and right Stiles' coffee cup before he could scald himself. But where Derek would have expected gratitude or a bit of embarrassment, as per usual, he only found suspicion as Stiles squinted at him.

"What are you doing?" Stiles asked, his voice low, curling up at the end. He narrowed his eyes a bit more as he gave Derek a quick once-over, pressing his lips together in a thin line.

"What do you mean?" Derek stammered, trying to appear as innocent as possible. He pushed his glasses further up his nose, Stiles following the movement with a raised brow.

"I mean," Stiles started, setting his plate of treats down on the table so he could point an accusing finger at Derek, "You keep doing stuff like that. The sidewalk, the chair,  _ my shoelaces.  _ What is this? Some kind of white knight syndrome or are you just flirting with me?"

Derek nearly swallowed his own tongue. He could feel his cheeks flush with heat, sure that he was turning bright red, his capillaries traitorous little bastards.

He shoved his free hand into his pocket, trying to look as casual as he could. But if Stiles was the clumsiest person ever, Derek was the most awkward.

Stiles clearly agreed as his eyes widened with realization as he stared at Derek, his jaw actually dropping like he were an animated character. Still pointing at Derek, he squeaked, "Dude, really?!"

Fully aware that he had never been very good at lying to Stiles --- save for the whole secret identity slash superpowered alien thing --- Derek just sighed. Chewing his bottom lip, he nodded, bracing himself for the inevitable rejection.

"That's awesome!" Stiles announced, breaking Derek out of his insecure little stupor. A wide smile had replaced his slack-jawed expression, his entire face lit up like the sun.

And like the sun, it made Derek feel utterly invincible. Invincible enough to swallow his hesitation and shove his awkwardness aside enough for him to ask, "So, uh, do you maybe wanna go out sometime?"

"Sometime?" Stiles echoed, tilting his head to the side like a floppy-eared puppy. Meeting Derek's eyes, Stiles smiled almost coyly and suggested, "What about right now?"

Derek beamed back at him, enthusiastically agreeing, "I think that sounds super."

**Author's Note:**

> You can always find me on Tumblr: [here,](www.hale-of-stiles-heart.tumblr.com)


End file.
